


Anfangen ist leicht, beharren eine Kunst.

by pretense, tick_tocked



Series: In Which Koujaku & Noiz are Soulmates [4]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tick_tocked/pseuds/tick_tocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To begin is easy, to persist is art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before anything else [here is the whole backstory](http://hopaiskalos.tumblr.com/kounoi%20color%20soulmates).
> 
> Y'all have no idea how elated I am to finally be posting this section of the AU. This RP started last December and 'officially' ended early this month. Plus the editing, beta, and final proofing to make this coherent despite (or, hell, _because_ ) it's 80% smut.

Koujaku sighs at the idyllic scene that greets him every morning – the blue sky framed by two sleek and shiny corporate buildings, modernity in contrast to the neat row of traditional, red-bricked houses found below. It wasn’t easy finding the place. He would admit to earning the ire of several real estate agents but artists are known for their fickleness, their seemingly pointless desire for perfection.  Who is Koujaku to deny such an instinct?

The satisfaction he feels at finally finding the ideal spot is rivalled, if not overshadowed, by the constant war for self-control raging within him. To appear calm, cool, and collected is one thing but the longer he spent here so close and yet so far from his goal (and at this, he has to bite his tongue for the clichéd phrase) … It sends the already-shaky hold on his thoughts and emotions into overdrive.

By some small miracle, he is able to keep in touch with Noiz without appearing overly-eager or otherwise dispirited. His strange, swirling thoughts are temporarily appeased, shackled by a specific phrase:  _That can only happen if._

Yes, he is finally here. Yes, Noiz hasn’t explicitly told him to back off. Yes, there is this one small chance that this could all work out. But all the same, he couldn’t let himself get carried away by breathless daydreams and fantasies, nor by waking nightmares and hallucinations. The possibilities for happiness or failure are now more real than ever before. All it takes is one push to finally set everything in motion.

“…Hello? It’s me. Ready to see my little slice of heaven in Germany?”

"I'm ready to find a decent parking space," Noiz replies, eyeing both sides of the streets for an empty slot. He catches a vehicle about to vacate its spot and he steers his car over to anticipate it.

It's rare for him to get out of the office so early, with boardroom meetings prone to going overtime on a regular basis. The season is especially ripe for business ventures and as the company's VP, it’s his job to take advantage of the stabilizing market. But today is his lucky day. The last scheduled client was similarly time-conscious and they finished the one-hour consultation within thirty minutes.

Noiz generally likes being in Germany, this is his homeland after all. There's a peace that soaks deep into his bones with every breath he takes, a rightful sense of belonging. Life is easy if not a bit monotonous. But that's okay. Noiz is good with routines, they keep him sane, keep him from thinking too much, from regretting.

Life is good, he tells himself as he looks into the mirror every morning, setting his tie to order, slipping on another sharp suit. He looks presentable, not a hair out of place -- as is expected of him. His parents finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye ever since he donned their approved attire.

It wasn't easy to get himself back in their good graces but he did it. He kept up the act long after it lost its purpose; he's already  _there,_ it would've been a waste to let it all fall to ruin. Noiz just had to find himself something at least half as interesting to occupy his time, it can't be that hard. Then months passed until it became years and he'd accumulated so many experiences but still – _nothing_. Not even the meddling of his parents and their noble attempt to find him a match (because it's apparently the only thing missing when he already has the looks and the money) could only go so far in keeping the tedium at bay.

The only thing that really stood out is... well. _Koujaku_. And his drastic change of heart. Noiz only ever found him as a favor to Aoba that time. If he'd known how that strange meeting would spiral into... whatever this is that stands between them, Noiz...

Noiz would probably do it again.

He can't explain it, even - rather,  _especially_  after the whole painting jig where he has apparently become an unwitting muse to this temperamental artist. Now, though, he can't even play the unsuspecting victim card. Noiz has more or less agreed to this engagement after Koujaku (in the flesh, for all intents and purposes) unceremoniously barged back into his life. He can complain but he has to admit that it certainly broke the monotony.

Time to see where this route would lead him.

"So where are you?" Noiz mutters into the communicator attached to his earpiece. His car is parked and he stands on the sidewalk looking up at the row of spacious houses.  _Not bad._

Koujaku grins, easily picking out the blond from his vantage point up above. If he was feeling particularly cheeky, he could spout all the wrong directions and watch him scurry up and down the street. Else, he can wait for him to stand at  _just_ the right spot before unleashing the fury of two weeks’ worth of paintbrush water. So many possibilities, so little time.

But no – Koujaku must restrain himself, has to appear as the gracious, suave host. It wouldn’t be good to scare Noiz off on the first day. If the blond is smart enough, he would make himself scarce by the third or fourth day but certainly not on the first.

“You look like a lost duck from up here.”

… What was that about being  _gracious and suave_?

“Hold on. I’ll pick you up.”

Ah, there we go. Much better.

Humming a cheery tune, the dark-haired man makes his way to the front door of his apartment. The space itself is an odd mix of traditional and modern – square monotone panels offset by pops of color provided by a small house plant or an odd little travel souvenir. The apartment is basically one big room with specific spaces marked off by either a change in flooring or closed physically by waist-high granite-topped counters. There are only three doors – one main, another heading straight to the veranda, and the third an automated glass piece for the bathroom. All in all, it's a fairly simple layout and Koujaku couldn’t want for anything more.

Well, aside from a certain blond posing half-naked on his couch.

Chuckling slightly at the radical curve his thoughts seem to be taking this particular day, Koujaku heads into the waiting elevator. Still humming a cheery, aimless tune, he steps out to look for his 'lost duck'.

Taking off his earpiece once the call ends, Noiz calmly waits for Koujaku to come out.

It will be his first time visiting the place despite the numerous teaser snapshots the older man has sent the past couple of weeks as he went about the whole nesting process.

Resisting the urge to start tapping his foot, Noiz settles for fixing the contents of the gift basket he'd brought with him. It's just tradition, something to keep up polite appearances even though this technically doesn't count as a housewarming. The wicker basket is lined with a rich red cloth to cushion its contents - a jar of salt, a freshly baked loaf of bread he'd stopped to get on the way, and a bottle of wine[*](http://www.weine-oberkirch.de/index.php/2013-oberkirch-fruehlings-und-sommerweine-rivaner-qba-trocken-6-x-0-75l.html) - though Noiz has a vague notion telling him it'll be a bad idea to pop open the alcohol given their previous track record. He still has work tomorrow, in any case.

Noiz is... kind of nervous but he refuses to show any hint of it. Koujaku has been acting too eager to start painting him and it's almost enough to make the blond back out. He has called it out as an obsession before and Koujaku did nothing to refute it. There's an imminent sense of danger in putting himself in this situation but rather than hide from it, Noiz has decided to search it out and maybe finally face what he wasn't ready to acknowledge from their last meeting more than a year ago. Still, he doesn't plan on being anywhere near vulnerable before this insatiable beast.

A door opens followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Noiz looks up, signature smirk in place. "Took you long enough."

“Well, these old joints aren’t what they use to be.” Koujaku teases, personally surprised at how he’d gone from detesting age jokes to actually cracking them himself. Perhaps it's Noiz’ influence rubbing off on him, or else the adage about ‘teaching old dogs new tricks’ can finally afford to bend a few rules. He can’t stand enduring more than three or four jokes at a time, though. A man has his limits after all.

Glancing at the basket in Noiz’ hands, the smile on his face widens slightly. The brat really is charming sometimes. His hand gives the blond’s hair a little affectionate tussle, pleased by the annoyed huff that particular action earned him.

“Come on, then. I have an empty couch with your name on it.”

* * *

 

The brief trek to Koujaku’s studio apartment is comfortably quiet, something neither of them would have thought possible after all the sneaking suspicions and unspoken animosity that used to fill the air many years ago. Thinking about how different all of this is compared to before make Koujaku terribly nostalgic, a large part of him is glad that they are able to at the very least start acting civil towards each other. He kind of misses the annoying, pointless banter though.

“Here we are~”

He gestures with a flourish as they enter the apartment. Koujaku has taken great care to make the space look decent. Only a few misplaced rags and half-empty paint cans indicated the artist’s attempts at several other projects. The entire space is centered on a single piece of furniture – an ebony-black Baroque couch that looked terribly out of place in the minimalist-inspired room.

Setting up his empty canvas and easel, he gives Noiz a teasing, cocky little grin. 

“Nervous?”

"Not really," Noiz mutters, critically eyeing the piece of furniture that he's going to occupy for... how long again? They never actually discussed much of the semantics - it's just ‘show up and I'll paint you’. Noiz shakes his head, gingerly walking around and familiarizing himself with the space.

Koujaku's pad... is nothing he'd come to immediately associate with him. There are still traces of his oriental heritage, the decorative trinkets themed with his signature red are points of interest in the one-room maze of a studio. It's not so much as a radical change (Noiz would know all about  _that_  from personal experience) because he'd borne witness to transition and maybe the scary thing about it is how easily Noiz accepts what's before his eyes. This is the Koujaku of the present and it's not bad. Far from it.

Setting his gift basket down on the counter top that separates the kitchen from Koujaku's work space, Noiz crosses his arms. "What now?"

Koujaku gives his empty canvas an appraising look, eyebrows knitting slightly in concentration before he shakes his head and turns back to Noiz with his usual charming smile.

“Actually since we’re just starting, would you mind if I do some practice sketches first? It’s been a while since I drew a live model.”

He sets the installed easel aside before searching his tool cabinet for a large, hard-backed sketchpad and a couple of pencils. Grabbing other materials along the way, he made quite the balancing spectacle – gangly limbs balancing one overly-large sketchpad tucked under his arm, hands filled with containers of pencils, soft pastels, and charcoal sticks, a lone paintbrush somehow finding its way between his lips as his foot hastily nudged a small stool closer to the couch. Finally deeming the position proper enough, he drops all his tools with a clatter and settles down ... only to pause and stare at the odd expression on Noiz’ face.

“What?” 

"Nothing," Noiz scoffs, a corner of his lips curling as he walks over. He bends over to pick up a stray paintbrush that has rolled away from the dump Koujaku has made of his precious (? apparently not-so-much) art materials. The older man could have asked for his help in carrying the items but - whatever.

Examining the tool as he plops down on the provided couch, Noiz finds it to be one of the more generic kind. Finely-crafted, certainly, but it's not the special human-hair brush that Noiz knows Koujaku to favor. Looking up at the painter, Noiz wonders if the slightly longer hair he sports now means that he has changed his artistic approach.

No matter. It's not exactly much of Noiz' concern how Koujaku makes masterpieces. He's just here to play model because he doesn't have anything better to do with his time.

"Am I just supposed to sit here?" he asks, twirling the paintbrush around his fingers.

“Yeah, just sit still. Or as still as you can.”

Koujaku can feel the pounding of his heart, the faint thrumming in his veins at the prospect of a new project. The idea that he can create something worthwhile, something beautiful with his own hands is what got him into art in the first place. Hands that knew nothing but destruction, fingers scarred by mistakes and regrets – he considers it no less than a miracle that he is able to make something resembling beauty.

Those same scarred fingers now hold a reed-thin pencil in their grasp, their movements smooth and fluid. His strokes are a direct contrast to the careless way the artist sat on his work stool, back hunched as he glances between subject and medium. Koujaku’s eyes are sharp, his expression uncommonly serious as he focuses on his work.

It's as if the whole room zipped its lips to help Koujaku concentrate the minute he started sketching. All Noiz can hear now is the scratch of graphite on paper, a slightly forceful skid every now then producing a hum from the artist at work but other than that it's silent.

Shifting slightly, Noiz is at the very least thankful that this couch is a comfy one. He leans more of his weight on the backrest, one leg crossed over the other, absently thumping the brush in his hands against the peak of his knee.

Koujaku rises ever so often from the horizon of his sketchpad, pinning Noiz with a stare that's a little too intense at times. A minute goes by, maybe two, of this wordless staring and sketching before Noiz decides -

"This is boring~"

He was told not to move but he can still speak, right?

Noiz gives himself a mental pat on the back when the nonstop pencil-scratching halts and Koujaku levels a look at him.

“Would it help if I told you to strip?” the dark-haired man smirks, rubbing away at a particular spot on the paper before redrawing something. Displeased, he erases the same part before drawing again only to pause and gnaw contemplatively at the end of his pencil.

Shifting slightly in his seat, his look changes to one of idle curiosity as he continues to stare at Noiz.

“… You have a really girly profile. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Sketching, erasing, redrawing. Koujaku’s cheeky question is drowned by the repetitive noises now punctuated by snippets of hummed songs – old and new - coupled with off-handed comments that tread the fine line between praise and insult.

“High cheekbones, too. Like a Roman statue.”

“Sharp eyes but an effeminate chin. Weird combination but it works.”

“That’s a lot of frown lines for someone so young.”

“I can see where your piercings used to be… They healed up pretty well, huh.”

“Your nose is so stupidly pointy.”

“… It's not that bad, actually."

Noiz frowns, emphasizing the lines Koujaku has pointed out.

"Oi, if this is what you start talking about then just keep your stupid mouth shut."

It's not that Noiz is especially conscious of his physical appearance and what people perceive from it but when Koujaku says it like that -- complimentary and condescending in the same breath --

He flicks the paintbrush in his hand, timing his aim for when the sketchpad wouldn't be blocking his target.

"Hey - Ow!"

Noiz cackles when the art tool hits Koujaku squarely in the face, cutting off what's surely another stupid comment. 

"If you wanted a nude Mona Lisa, you should've just said so," he teases. "I know people from this high-brow art circle around here that would be more than willing to lounge naked on your couch."

“I don’t think any of them will be bold enough to hit me with a paintbrush, though.” Koujaku rubs the slightly pink spot as he resists the urge to throw something back. Assaulting each other with art materials is the farthest you can get from seductive or sexy and Koujaku really,  _really_ wants things to progress in either of those directions.

Which is why throwing that piece of eraser at Noiz' head was probably a horrible idea. (He does it anyway.)

The dark-haired man snickers, holding his sketchbook up for protection just in case Noiz decides to return fire. When no other art material makes contact with the board, he cautiously peeks from behind his ‘shield’, surprised to see a rather disappointed look on Noiz’ face.

Did the blond honestly want to pose nude or is Koujaku reading all the signs wrong again?

The rubber thrown at him tumbles to the floor after barely grazing his temple. Raising an unimpressed gaze to the man behind the sketchbook, Noiz clicks his tongue.

"And here I thought artists were supposed to be obliging to their muses."

Not that he expected to be pampered or anything of the sort. It's simply a... _weird position_ … that he finds himself in. Koujaku has made clear exactly what he wants from Noiz - a painting, a date, a fuck, probably not in that order. His agreement to this modeling gig (and he mentally cringes at the term) probably spells out something of an acquiescence and yet... Noiz doesn't know what he  _wants_  from Koujaku; or if he even wants anything at all.

Their eyes are locked, neither one willing to break away and that's how Noiz realizes that they're literally at a standstill. Have been, probably, ever since that near-disaster of a night more than a year ago where Koujaku has been persistent and Noiz, resistant. Well this stupid standoff has gone on long enough.

The look on Koujaku’s face is apology enough. Or, at least, Noiz chooses to read it as such.

Koujaku asks for a change in position to further his warm-up sketches and Noiz obliges. The blond mulls over the artist’s words and intentions, his _real_ intentions. Ones that Noiz has been afraid – yes, afraid – to give second thought because if he does then he might as well throw all caution to the wind.

And isn’t that a liberating thought?

Noiz looks at Koujaku, all focused in his task that lets Noiz know that this isn’t a mere front. Koujaku really does want to craft more works in his likeness. He has fully invested himself into this new art, new life. And he’s inviting Noiz to be a part of it.

It makes Noiz realize how much he has been holding back still, unwilling to _expose_ himself the world around him because the only one he’d believed who could love him has irrevocably chosen somebody else, someone better. All these years and he still hasn’t let go of that first love, not until…

Red eyes flash at him and Noiz gets caught in their focus, that final piece of the puzzle sliding into place.

"So are you done with the practice sketches?" Noiz asks, noting how the scratch of pencil on paper has gone silent for the last couple of minutes. His thoughtful expression wanes as understanding dawns on him. "Do I start stripping for your perverted pleasure now?"

The grin he wears is a lure not a surrender; a tactical move to restart their little game and this time, this time Noiz plans to push the envelope a little farther.


	2. Chapter 2

Koujaku swallows, throat suddenly gone too dry at the obvious come hither look on Noiz’ face. He has been on the end of so many flirty winks and kisses but this one is different. Only the brat could make him feel an odd mix of attraction and repulsion. The desire to hold him close and kiss him 'til his lips bleed then perhaps cuddle with him afterwards is sick, twisted, and  _oh-so tempting_.

“I’m done with the sketches… although I’m not exactly done with  _you_ , now am I?”

That could have gone a bit smoother, Koujaku acquiesces but talking to Noiz has the odd effect of rendering his suave skills null and void. Maybe that's part of the reason why he wants to hit him so badly.

“Y’can come around and check them out, although if you prefer to do that in your birthday suit then by all means~”

Koujaku sits up and tries to look busy, editing out some parts of his sketch as he all but wills his eyes to stay on the fricking paper. One sneak peek would undoubtedly betray how much he actually wanted to see Noiz naked although he's unsure if the sight would make him laugh out loud or elicit an entirely different, unexpected response out of him.

 _Ah. He recoiled._ So much for baiting the old man.

Noiz slinks out of the couch, rolling his head a little to draw out the slight stiffness from – he checks his watch – thirty minutes of non-movement. Has it really only been thirty minutes? It felt much longer but no matter, Noiz is just about bored of doing nothing anyway.

Shielded once more by his trusty sketchpad, Koujaku is pointedly finishing his drawings as Noiz walks over. A noncommittal hum leaves the blond as he surveys the work, scrutinizing the 2D renditions of his likeness.

“Is that how I  _really_  look like?" Noiz mutters, leaning over Koujaku's shoulder, nose scrunched up in distaste. The effeminacy that had been pointed out earlier is made apparent by graphite strokes. Faint lines and thin erasures give the hair volume and an uncharacteristic softness, prompting Noiz to briefly touch his own blond locks and wonder where and how Koujaku got that impression.

The tip of the pencil quivers then stops all motion; the green eyes that have been following it similarly come to a halt. From his periphery, Noiz is acquainted with the thin line of Koujaku's pursed lips.

A scarred finger rubs at the lines defining Noiz’ hair, the touch lending a wistful, slightly dreamlike quality to the sketch. If anything, it makes the blond’s hair seem softer…  _fluffy_  almost. The result makes Koujaku chuckle as he momentarily forgets that he is not alone.

"Actually, I'm not sure if this is what you really look like."

He read a theory from somewhere saying how no artist can truly recreate the likeness of their subject. The artist's movements are always tainted by prejudice, marred by memories and biases. Although it may sound like a nuisance (especially when trying to create a portrait), those little quirks and 'mistakes' give works a certain life. By drawing or painting someone, artists place their opinion, their memory of that person on paper or canvas.

_Fleeting moments caught by graphite and paper._

"But this is how I see you now."

The dark-haired man lifts his gaze, eyes warm, no longer afraid or hesitant as they meet pale emerald. His other hand moves, fingers trailing over the side of Noiz' face before burying themselves in a mess of golden tresses. With another chuckle, Koujaku murmurs,

"... Ah, it  _is_ as soft as it looks."  

For a long time after being reacquainted with his sense of touch, Noiz had been especially sensitive - curious and cautious about the novel sensation. The thrill of his first experiences have faded into the norm but every now and then Noiz still gets that hitch in his breath when something touches his skin.

Right now it feels like a series of firecrackers bursting, following a path up his face and blooming like red carnations.

_Chu._

Golden lashes flutter open, clearing his view to showcase an entirely undecipherable expression on Koujaku's face. Noiz' lips brush over tanned skin, just under the wrist where the older man's pulse is beating.

"Should've known you'd have a hair fetish," he murmurs, teasing tone lower than even he has come to expect.

Koujaku keeps his eyes locked onto Noiz’ own pair, his fingers lingering on soft blond tresses. Since when did he start feeling so calm when he’s with the brat? Before, just the mere sight of Noiz slapped a scowl right on to his face, blood racing at the thought of having such an unpleasant encounter. His fists used to ache, used to desire punching Noiz right in his cocky little smirk but now…

“Some things don’t really change... even if a lot of things do.”

His hand is uncharacteristically gentle as it guides Noiz down, his own body arching up to meet him halfway. The sketchpad falls to the ground with a faint thump as their shadows merge for one brief moment, lips pressing in a definite kiss before Koujaku moves away slightly.

“… I think we should take a break.” 

This close, Noiz can see every fleck of color in Koujaku's eyes and the heat in them burns him from the inside-out.

It's right in front of him now -- that elusive feeling that confounds his logical mind -- it's in the breadth of space separating him from Koujaku, asking for validation, for a second kiss and another... another. Noiz huffs, smirks; heart thumping in even beats.

"But we've barely even started..."

The angle he's bent at is awkward so his first move serves to rectify that. In one swift step, Noiz stands before Koujaku, calculating. The stool Koujaku is sitting on might not be able to support their combined weights. Decided, he anchors one knee between Koujaku's legs, resting just so at the edge of the seat and using it as leverage as he leans over.

"Or do you need some help in getting those creative juices flowing?"

Unpredictable as always, Koujaku can only watch as Noiz maneuvers himself before ending up with his knee pressed rather intimately (intimidatingly?) against the artist’s crotch. Blame ill-timed self-preservation instincts but the dark-haired man inches  _away_ from the touch, uncertainty briefly marring his features before the dark look in Noiz’ eyes registers as seductive not destructive.

“Ah, and  _you’re_  some sort of creative juice flow expert?”

The line falls flatter than a two-ton pancake and Koujaku couldn’t help but laugh. It seems neither of them are in the suave pick-up line zone today but really, why is there even a need to lure when the trap has already snapped shut? There is certainly no going back from this now.

Koujaku smirks, pulling Noiz closer for another kiss filled with clashing teeth and tongue, a far cry from the timid press they shared earlier. Determined to get a rise from the blond, Koujaku bites the swell of Noiz’ lip, tugging to draw out a bit of blood before licking away the crimson drops beading on the surface.

“… Sweet.” the dark-haired man murmurs, licking his own lips as if savoring a particularly tasty dish.

Split lips and a metallic taste on his tongue usually spell out a fight. The intensity of his glare and the way his fists hold up the front of Koujaku's shirt only add to the image. His smirk is twisted so as not to put pressure on the stinging cut.

"That hurt," Noiz mutters, pressing his forehead against Koujaku's, looming over the man and asserting his dominance.

War drums toll inside his chest, reverberating all the way down to the tips of his toes and fingers. The building excitement threatens to overwhelm him.

Has it really been so long since his last bed partner that he's all raring to go right now, consequences be damned?

A muffled voice in the back of his head asks _what does he even has to lose_. 

Noiz shudders when a wide palm roves the small of his back; it sears him like a hot iron brand, ignoring the crisp layer of his office shirt separating their skins.

He dips his face lower, sealing his lips over Koujaku's, hard and demanding and _yes_ , it has definitely been too long.

 He yanks at the fabric bundled in his hands in a wordless demand.

Koujaku grunts, pulled close by more than brute physical force. He doesn’t dare break eye contact with Noiz, can’t imagine moving his hands from the warm body hidden from him by a teasingly thin layer of cloth. Their tongues press and slide, heat on heat as they seek to get even closer. Blunt nails rake down the front of Noiz’ shirt, tugging loose a button or two as a growl rumbles from deep within Koujaku’s throat. His eyes are borderline feral as his arms wrap around the blond’s lithe form, holding him in place as they engage in yet another kiss that's a bit less painful than the last but long and messy nonetheless.

Too lost in the moment, neither notice the stool give a slight creak of protest before its flimsy leg twists and bends, causing them to fall on the floor with a curse and a chuckle.

Noiz finds himself in the uncomfortable position of having his face pressed against a sturdy shoulder, arms squished between an equally firm body, and his ass up in the air. The fall didn't hurt as much as he'd expect but that's probably because Koujaku has taken most of the brunt. Extracting himself, Noiz' mouth is pulled into a frown as he stares disbelievingly at the mirth that's all but thrown right into his face.

"This is why you're a painter and  _not_ an interior designer."

Pushing off so he could sit on the floor, Noiz crosses his arms waiting for Koujaku to right himself. Beside them is the fallen stool, wonky leg an inch from completely giving away. The rest of Koujaku's art supplies are scattered around it, sketchpad haphazardly mixed in.

It's embarrassing to say the least. Both the fall and how quickly things escalated. Noiz would be blushing but his heated blood is currently circulating lower hemispheres. He takes calming breaths, wiping the back of his hand over his lips.

It takes a while for Koujaku to straighten himself up, amused grin still on his lips despite the slight ache on his lower back. He makes a quick, haphazard effort to clean up the materials scattered about them, his jovial mood barely affected by the broken chair. The objects are pushed aside before Koujaku advances on his guest, suddenly pinning him on the floor much like a wolf pouncing on his prey…or an overly-enthusiastic St. Bernard greeting his owner.

“Too bad~ I was actually considering taking up some classes for interior design. ‘Alternative career path' and whatnot."

The dark-haired man leans down to continue their messy make out session, teeth nipping at warm, soft lips as if demanding ( _pleading_ ) for entrance. With his arm braced by Noiz’ head, his other hand is free to trail down the blond’s once-crisp business shirt, scarred fingers deftly undoing button after button, yearning to touch the pale expanse of flesh nestled within.

It is pure naiveté to expect that things would just end there. Noiz realizes this when his back hits the floor and Koujaku seamlessly fills the space between his lips. He wants to protest, push Koujaku off and regain some semblance of control over the situation but then --

He startles at the rough palm that settles over his abdomen, shirt falling open, baring a greater expanse of skin. Eyes squeezed shut, Noiz only manages to get a weak hold on Koujaku's shoulder, mouth going slack, whole body shivering. A slick tongue probes inside and Noiz greets it with a moan; Koujaku carries a faded taste of coffee.

They're making out like people half their age, all eager and barely coordinated, parting only when their lungs demanded its rightful supply of air.

"You..." Fingernails dig into the meat of Koujaku's shoulder, green fire peering through golden lashes. "You should stick to painting..."

Noiz gives the man above him a quick peck on the lips. He expects Koujaku to dive in after him, to resume that heady spit-swapping but the next moment is dragged out to the point of standing completely still. They have long since caught their breaths and yet that simple act fills up the following seconds. Just breathing, staring, almost like they're finally (properly) drinking in the reality of what all this could amount to.

His hand leaves Koujaku's shoulder, sliding up into uneven jet black hair. Noiz experimentally tightens his grip around a clump, grinning when it earns him a growl. He wouldn't be surprised if Koujaku snaps another bite on his lips.

"You keep wanting to do so many things," he purrs, licking at the cut now that he's reminded of it. He's practically topless underneath a man who looks ready to eat him alive and it will be so  _easy_ to give in. "Painting and interior design," he scoffs "An old man like you should have settled down by now..."

The slight tug at his hair makes Koujaku wince, eyes narrowing in a quick glare as Noiz taunts him. As if the physical tease isn't enough, the blond has the audacity to point out the limits Koujaku is pushing with his ‘advanced age’. Nearly ten years between them isn’t too big a deal… or is it? Either way, Noiz is definitely getting punished for his smartass mouth.

“Sorry but I don’t take life advice from short snarky brats who can’t even shove me off.”

It is probably unfair to point out the physical differences between them. Koujaku has always been the bigger, buffer one partly due to genetics (his old man had a despicably large, imposing figure). But years of messing around in the streets as the leader of a Rib team certainly contributed to his sheer physical strength. Perhaps he took up the rather delicate trade of haircutting - and now painting - to try and balance out the raw power in his body. It's an attempt at being different, at changing who he is. A balancing act on the tightrope, trying to gauge how much or how little force he needs to use to either create or destroy. The challenge can get exhausting so being able to just let loose is a rare blessing.

And of all people, it is  _Noiz_ who bestows it upon him.

Koujaku leans down, warm breath ghosting over the pale, exposed skin on Noiz’ neck. The blond smells of bath soap and expensive cologne, his own natural musk blending with subtle tones of sandalwood. It is intoxicating; it makes Koujaku’s mouth  _water_ but--

 _No_. He needs to reel himself in. There is still one thing he must hear before this can all proceed into the inevitable.

“… Noiz… Do you really want to do this with me?”  


	3. Chapter 3

That serious face and somber tone... Noiz has seen and heard it before but he can't recall it having the same effect on him then as it does now. Maybe because he is ready this time around. He has come to expect this as a possible outcome given their past experience. Maybe he even craved it.

After denying his innate curiosity in favor of keeping up the established walls between them, the what-ifs and could-haves slowly but surely started to grow. Like rust on a chain-link fence, it eroded what he had thought to be impenetrable. It let Koujaku in - for the second time around - and Noiz knows now that it can't be pure coincidence, not when both parties have actively pursued a resolution to this undeniable gravitation that brings them together in spite of everything. Laying on his back in the artist's abode, Noiz finds that he's been waiting to be asked that question again, waiting for this second chance.

Koujaku's frame cages him in but at the same time, the man looks like he's ready to roll off the second Noiz says 'No'. It's admirable, but Noiz wants -  _needs_  - him closer. 

"Why would I shove you off...?” Noiz begins, the hand that's not tangled in Koujaku's hair finds purchase on the dark jeans resting low on trimmed hips. "When I've got you right where I want you..."

With a deliberate pull, Noiz lets Koujaku feel the way his body is taking to their current situation. Groins more or less aligned, Noiz bites back a groan at the friction that the slow drag affords him, knowing that it's only the beginning. He presses his next words against the corner of Koujaku's mouth.

"So are we gonna fuck? Or are we gonna fuck?"

The sound that emanates from Koujaku’s throat is anything but human – a deep, raspy growl that should have warned Noiz to shut the hell up, should have alerted Koujaku’s own higher reasoning to kick into gear before all is lost in a haze of heat and lust. But the blond just seems even more turned on by the sound as he shifts his hips upward yet again, earning himself a slow grind in response.

“Like I have any choice.”

His words may be bordering on mean but the kiss that steals Noiz’ breath away is affectionate, happy,  _relieved_. Like he’d been waiting all this time, standing on the edge of disbelief before finally jumping into the unknown instead of waiting for the ground to crumble beneath his feet. (The end result is the same but knowing there is some form of choice in the matter makes the surrender easier to swallow.)

Koujaku closes his eyes and finally,  _finally_ allows himself to feel everything – Noiz supple lips, the sharp edge of his teeth tearing skin before a warm tongue laps at the wound in a gentle, almost apologetic manner. The gentleness doesn’t last long, however, and they soon dissolve into a flurry of bites and scratches, teeth on warm skin, nails raking at hair and fabric.

One would think that years ‘out in the field’ has given them a chance to hone their skills of seduction but in the end those words and gestures are meaningless in the face of pure, unbridled desire.

Groaning at a particularly harsh tug on his hair, Koujaku all but rips Noiz’ shirt open, sending a couple of wayward buttons scattering on the floor. His tongue is hot, eager as it slowly traces a line up the blond’s exposed chest, smoldering ruby eyes locking on to pale emerald as Koujaku tugs none-too-gently at a pink nipple with his teeth.

"Nnnghhh..!!"

Noiz nearly bites his tongue off, repressing the moans and shudders. His chest had never been particularly sensitive so it must be Koujaku's rough treatment that has him losing his breath. Ruby eyes refuse to release him even as the man moves to tease the other nub with lips and teeth; Noiz' back arches off the floor, his last line of defense crumbles and it has never felt so freeing.

A hand slips under Koujaku's shirt, fingernails scraping over skin as Noiz hauls the dark-haired man closer, up and over until he has regained access to that sinful mouth. He has no qualms about being vocal now as the needy sounds only serve to encourage the skilled hands groping every ridge and crevice on his body. Similarly, he wastes no time in familiarizing himself with the muscular figure beneath soft textiles, palming the curve of Koujaku's ass and guiding the older man's thrusts to meet his own at all the right angles. Noiz can almost swear that he feels the frantic pounding of Koujaku's heart.

But it’s still not enough. After denying it for so long, Noiz is filled with a most manic desire to experience _everything_ that the older man has to offer.

Noiz sucks on Koujaku's tongue, grazing his teeth on the slick muscle as he pulls back. "Take this off," he mumbles, kissing his way up Koujaku's jaw while his hand tugs on the hem of his jeans.

“What, no ‘please’?” Koujaku teases, words once again in sharp contrast with actions as he momentarily moves away to remove his shirt. Tugging the fabric up and off his head, Noiz is treated to the sight of lean, tightly-packed muscles covered by tan, tattooed skin. Koujaku’s scarred fingers then hastily begin working on the fastenings of his pants… only to pause as he gives Noiz a curious look.

“Wait a sec. _Semes_ don’t need to remove all their clothing now do they~?”

Before the blond could throw in a witty remark about who is clearly the dominant one in this exchange ( _but of course it would be him because he’d been making Koujaku do all these silly things_ ), the dark-haired man returns to his previous position. Feeling Noiz’ slightly colder skin press against his own feverish one draws a gasp from his throat, the flame in his eyes burning brighter.

“It’s the same principle about Christmas presents bein’ unwrapped instead of the other way around,” Koujaku murmurs against the side of Noiz’ neck, the blond’s pulse trembling against his lips. True, that might not have been the soundest argument to prove his point but it's the best he can come up with considering all the blood currently migrating from his brain to down south.

Warm, rough hands caress up the smooth fabric of Noiz’ pants before fingers undo and unbuckle buttons and zippers. Eager, Koujaku then slips his hand in… only to utter a sound curse as his skin comes into contact with something hard, round, and most definitely anatomically _in_ correct.

_“- - the hell??”_

"So that's what it takes to stop your yapping."

Noiz smirks, the shock factor never fails to amuse him. He takes Koujaku's temporarily stunned state as an opportunity to reverse their positions, pushing the older man to the floor and straddling his hips. Covering the hand that's intruding into his boxers, Noiz guides it farther down, rubbing against the calloused palm as he braces himself on one hand and leans down. Hisses and sharp exhales slip past the leering smile that stretches his mouth.

The dark flush on Koujaku's face has spread all the way down to his chest, shading his complexion and emphasizing the black bands stretched over taut skin. Licking his lips, Noiz traces the swirling ink pattern across Koujaku's collarbone, dipping his tongue into the hollow of his throat. "Salty," he murmurs against the underside of Koujaku's jaw, nipping at his chin.

Scarred fingers twitch around him, trying to grasp the situation in more than a literal sense. Noiz abruptly tightens his hold on Koujaku's hand, causing blunt fingernails to dig into the half-hard flesh, pushing the ladder piercings into him. Koujaku yelps and Noiz grinds down harder, chasing the surge of arousal caused by pain. It's something he has carried over from way back when, from the time when he was numb to the world and the only way for him to connect was through getting hurt. He has no special need to keep his piercings upon regaining his tactile senses but there was little else that could have comforted him following his (unspoken but) apparent rejection from a certain someone's affections. His previous bed partners didn't seem to mind; most of them  _enjoyed it_ , as a matter of fact.

“What's wrong, old man?” Blown-out pupils regard Koujaku the way a predator eyes its prey. “You act like you've never touched another guy's dick before...”

Koujaku can only manage a weak sputter as this recent development throws him off the loop. He often prides himself in having the upper hand in any situation (especially in bed) but there is just something about this blond that always surprises him. No,  _surprised i_ s an inadequate word. Noiz’ very existence  _challenged_ him – from the way he walked and talked, right down to the fricking metal piercings on his dick. This man is the antithesis to everything Koujaku stands for, the antidote (or corresponding poison) to everything that he is. True, the concept of ‘opposites attract’ exists but that phrase could barely contain the plethora of emotions the blond evokes in him.  _Attraction, annoyance, disgust, craving_ … and yet more emotions rise to the surface the longer they remain with each other.

“Not every guy has a fricking ‘Terminator’ dick, you bastard.”

The dark-haired man finally moves his hand properly, the touch tight but slow, apprehensive as he keeps an eye on Noiz’ expression. Met with nothing but that damn smirk and a not-so-subtle urging to move faster, Koujaku finally succumbs. Warm, rough pads brush with skin and metal, blunt nails experimentally raking down sensitive flesh. Despite the positive response for this sort of treatment, Koujaku still feels curiosity get the better of him and he pinches one piercing, tugging the metal slightly before letting it go with a faint snap. His throat goes dry at the moan it draws from Noiz’ lips. If his hand can make Noiz feel this way then what if…

“Move.” Koujaku growls, pushing Noiz back on to the floor as he tugs down the blond’s pants and underwear. Not even waiting for any sort of acknowledgement (or maybe a cuss word or two), Koujaku runs his tongue over and around the slit of Noiz’ cock before sucking a particularly large metal piercing into his mouth, humming slightly at the odd metallic taste. 

Noiz grunts as he is unceremoniously shoved onto his back but the scathing protest dies on his tongue not a second later.

Gone is the bout of indecision, overtaken once more by primal desire. The sharp tongue that has been throwing insults and compliments in the same breath now wraps around the head of his dick. Koujaku's experimental pulls on his piercings grow frequent and confident as Noiz dissolves into a panting mess beneath him, hips moving to push deeper into the wet heat. Teeth scrape lightly over hardened flesh and his breath catches, exhaling in a drawn out groan. He can feel the smirk that's implied when Koujaku starts sucking harder, cheeks hollowed, tongue curling over the metal studs embedded on his dick.

This isn't...  _Damn_. Just when he thinks he knows how badly the older man wants to bed him. This is just too --

_Intense._

"Koujaku..!!" Fingernails leave crescent marks on Koujaku's shoulder. Noiz' involuntary thrust is halted by the strong hands clamping on his hips and the base of his cock. 

It's as if they're pouring entire years' worth of sexual tension into this single encounter. Like they would never have another chance.

Koujaku growls, darkened gaze threatening to bite his dick off if he doesn't cooperate. The vibration wracks shivers down Noiz's spine, his sheathed dick twitches in response.

Reaching out, Noiz strokes his thumb over the bulge of his cock on Koujaku's cheek as the man resumes his ministrations. He whimpers when one of Koujaku's hands squeeze at his balls, toying with the ringed piercing there. Again, Noiz finds himself held down and Koujaku finally releases his dick, lips red and slick. He looks ready to give another sermon so Noiz cuts it off quick, bending down and tasting his own precum mixed in with the older man' saliva. Noiz kisses him hard, a little reward for a job well done. Pulling back, he grins.

"You looked so good with my dick in you," he whispers, coaxing Koujaku to sit upright with a hand on his neck. His other hand lays flat on the heaving chest, roving and groping, teasing the perked nipples on his way to lower territory. "So eager to please... Got me so hard..." He presses the words on heated skin, peppering kisses up the man's jaw until he can whisper in his ear. "Won't let me fuck your mouth though... Why is that, Koujaku?" Noiz kisses his earlobe, following it with his tongue and teeth. "Got somewhere else for me to fuck?"

He answers his own question by slipping a hand into the back of Koujaku's already loosened jeans.

The dark-haired man will deny to the pits of hell and back the rather effeminate yelp he let out upon feeling Noiz’ thieving hand in his pants. Then again, there is no reason for him to complain about anything considering he’d been sucking the brat off just a few moments ago. And rather enthusiastically too. Blame it on curiosity or thinly-veiled lust – fact is that Koujaku wouldn’t just lose himself so easily and yet here he is. A part of him actually enjoys getting swept away by this torrent of heat and lust, so much so that he is more than willing to give fricking  _Noiz_ some (/a lot of) head. Worse, he’d just as easily do it again if given the chance and  _that_  idea is both thrilling and terrifying.

“O-Oi, don’t be so full of yourself, perverted brat!”

Koujaku feels his heart leap up to his throat as Noiz fixes him that lust-darkened gaze, his light-green eyes definitely not willing to take ‘no’ for an answer. In fact, Noiz looks like he's ready to tear Koujaku apart, devour him whole right then and there. The look is painfully familiar and Koujaku finds himself stiffening slightly as horrible memories begin trickling into his mind, dark tendrils sneaking in between cracks and crevices worn away by time and carelessness. It takes all his self-control to manage that one deep breath, a shaky smirk tugging at his lips.

“And what makes you so sure you’re gettin’ what you want, eh?”

Rough, scarred fingers reach up to cup Noiz’ cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle as he leans in close for yet another kiss. Koujaku closes his eyes, tries to focus on the press of lips and tongue while his heart continues to pound a staccato rhythm in his chest. Horrible memories have no place here. He didn’t wait for so long, he didn’t  _want_ for so long just to have everything ruined by whispers of the past that should have long fallen silent.  

Hoping that Noiz failed to notice his hesitation, Koujaku reaches back to grasp the blond’s sneaky hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t slap it off, just presses his own hand over it as he holds Noiz’ gaze.

“This club’s for members only~” 

"Then it's a good thing that I can get VIP access to most anything," Noiz says with an insinuative raise of his brows. He squeezes the meat of Koujaku's ass, pleased when the man presses his hand even closer.

Koujaku's eyes are glazed with an entirely different shade of desire and Noiz thinks they've done enough teasing. He needs to know what it would feel to be inside this man, needs to hear his name - the one he had chosen, owned - to spill forth in broken syllables, a consummation of their indisputable attraction once and for all. He has nothing left to hide and so much more to discover. For that he needs a proper stage.

"Come," he urges, stroking his thumb over the pulse point on Koujaku's neck and leaning into the hand on his cheek at the same time. "I'll take good care of you." He holds Koujaku's gaze a second longer just to show that he means it. This is far from being a thoughtless hook-up; Koujaku isn't a name he won't bother to remember by the next day. This has been a long time coming. And it probably means more than Noiz could even begin to fathom, terrified as he is of letting people see his truest self, afraid that they'll find someone better because there is,  _there always is_.

With Koujaku, however, Noiz finds that his fears don't even begin to register. Even if they do, all it takes is a sensual kiss or touch to strip them all away until Noiz is left with nothing but his base elements. This isn't what he had in mind when they acknowledged each other and started being civil all those years back but Noiz can't complain about how reassuring it is to be wanted, needed like this - to feel everything that is unconditionally given.

It's almost a shame to pull away from the heat that their entanglement affords but the promise of something much hotter gets him to his feet. At the suspicious look Koujaku sends, Noiz plants a hand on his jutted hip, never mind that the only piece of clothing on him is a wide open office shirt. The movement also serves to draw the older man's line of sight to his erection. Noiz just laughs when Koujaku's throat moves in an unsubtle swallow.

"You got condoms? Lube?" Noiz asks as he heads for Koujaku's bed, slipping the shirt off his shoulders along the way.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	4. Chapter 4

_“I’ll take good care of you.”_

Koujaku bites back a curse as Noiz’ words hit him like a ton of bricks. When was the last time someone actually said those words to him? When was the last time someone actually  _meant_  them? Koujaku shouldn’t let himself hope but it's getting harder to think, to pull his walls back up when Noiz is giving him a look that promises pleasure and pain in equal measure… and perhaps a bit more than that if he behaves.

It's unfair,  _absolutely unfair_ for the brat to be able to say those words with such confidence, with such pure and undisguised affection. The sight makes Koujaku’s heart feel twice as full, like it's about to burst and send him into a coma. Or maybe it's something else feeling twice as full…?

As Noiz moves away with the intention of continuing somewhere more comfortable, Koujaku can only smile wryly as he gets back up on his feet.

One way or another, this brat will  _definitely_  be the death of him.

“Who do you think I am? Of course I’d be prepared.”

Not even sparing his scattered art supplies a passing glance, Koujaku leads the way to his bedroom. The space is simple, understated like the rest of his apartment. The only pop of color in the otherwise gray room is the richly-embroidered bed cover, red satin threaded with phoenixes and dragons dancing in the air. It looks like some lost heirloom ripped off the ancestral home's walls.

“…Here~ Sorry to say I don’t have any furry handcuffs or any of those other things. Fresh out.” Koujaku smirks, tossing a pack of condoms and a bottle of jasmine-scented hand oil on the bed. His clothes are just as quickly flung to some corner of the room, the usual reservations about having his tattoo exposed momentarily ignored as his body seeks quick release from the heat crawling on his skin.

With the way things are going, it would be difficult to misconstrue Noiz’ intentions. Granted, Koujaku isn’t entirely eager about being on the receiving end of this encounter but maybe if he manages to distract Noiz long enough…

The brat should be happy as long as he gets his release, right?

At the mention of toys, Noiz let out a scoff, sauntering over until he's chest to chest with Koujaku. He traces the inked skin with his eyes, impressed at their expanse and detail. Noiz has only ever caught glimpses of it but now that it's all bared to him, he can't help but be curious. It's a living work of art curled oh-so tightly over Koujaku's trimmed frame. He wants to know, wants to ask but there are more pressing matters at hand.

Noiz flattens his palms on Koujaku's shoulders, letting the older man draw him closer by the waist. He keeps his gasp at the back of his throat, turning it into a purring moan as Koujaku brings their hips together, his pierced cock rubbing against an equally stiff prick.

"I don't think we'd have much time to enjoy handcuffs," Noiz murmurs, his half-lidded gaze smoldering. He pulls Koujaku to his level, grazing teeth on the man's bottom lip. "You're already this hard and I haven't even touched you properly..." He wraps one hand around them both, as much as his reach allows, and cants his hips.

The rough kiss that swallows his next words doesn't surprise him. That's what he gets for teasing. What does surprise him is getting thrown onto the bed. Smothered, more like, with Koujaku's weight pressing onto him, their kiss unbroken, and the dark-haired man thrusting into the wet grip of his hand.

Noiz lets go as he sinks into the soft covers, their cool temperature balances the boiling heat that's building in between writhing bodies. He rolls further into the bed, dragging Koujaku along, shifting positions until they're laying side by side.

Raised skin meets his wandering hands, the tanned complexion marred by ink and battle scars. Noiz feels the frantic heartbeats chasing his own. Propping himself up on an elbow, Noiz' free hand settles on Koujaku's abdomen, smearing a mixture of their precum over sweat-sheened skin.

"Spread your legs a little wider," he instructs, thumbing the defined ridge of a hipbone. Grabbing the bottle of oil, Noiz gets on his knees to find Koujaku hesitating.

Noiz raises a brow.

"What? You want to get on your stomach and stick out your ass? I'm down for anything."

_Words_. Why did this brat have to be so good with throwing them around and figuratively slapping them against Koujaku’s already crumbling self-control?

“Is that a challenge?”

Of course it isn’t. Who is he kidding? Noiz is just teasing him as usual, baiting him with the uncomfortable promise of a sore back (among other things). Koujaku would no sooner shave his head than let the brat take him, especially after all the wait and anticipation.

But there is this certain voice in the back of his head, a dark and dangerous murmur that wondered aloud what it would feel like to surrender control and let Noiz take over. How long has it been since Koujaku let such a thing happen? Months, years ago? The encounter was unsatisfactory at best. No amount of alcohol could calm him enough and the guy was sloppy, clumsy. There was a lot of cursing in between uncomfortable bouts of silence before Koujaku murmured something about the whole deal ‘not working for him’. He was foolish to think that one random encounter would be enough to erase the stigma of his first… not that he liked considering it as such.

But maybe this time…

Koujaku bites his lip, hesitation evident on his face before the emotion is pushed, shoved into a far corner and shackled with chains; not the sturdiest restrain but it would have to do for now.

“Bet you’re not even that good.”

The dark-haired man leans his frame over the satin expanse, purposely giving Noiz an eyeful of his lean, tattooed back before glancing over his shoulder.

“Besides, who’d want some weird, pierced dick?” he smirks, giving his hips a little cant as his knees brace themselves on the bed. He can only hope that Noiz would take the hint before his insecurities find a way to undo those damn mental chains

The sight of blooming red lotuses stuns Noiz enough to make him forget his next words. Something about the old man  _obviously_ wanting to get some of this turns his tongue into lead. He thought the black bands all over Koujaku's front were intricate before but these...

They're tantalizing. Taunting him with the deep-etched vibrancy of their colors. He wants to pry, to inspect every detailed stroke to satisfy his morbid curiosity. It's almost impossible to look away but he does.

Koujaku is staring at him over his shoulder. He looks mortified at having placed himself in such a position. It would be hilarious if it didn't imply exactly how little he trusts Noiz to follow through with his promise.

Maybe it’s just his ego (or his even his dick) that's taking offense, but Noiz decides that he doesn't like it. Forgetting about everything else for a moment, Noiz drapes himself over Koujaku's back. It's a stretch but they manage to lock lips, an act of reassurance that Noiz would stick with him through whatever end it is that they're bound to reach. His dick slides promisingly in between firm ass cheeks and he smirks when Koujaku grinds back, moaning. The sound goes straight to his cock; Noiz can't imagine that he'll last very long if they keep going like this.

“Relax...” Noiz murmurs over the loud 'pop' of the uncapped bottle. He kisses down the curve of Koujaku's spine, eyes never leaving the red pair that's watching his every move. “You're already spread so beautifully for me.”

He sets aside the oil once his right-hand fingers are sufficiently coated. Bracing his clean hand on Koujaku's hip to steady him, Noiz plants a final kiss onto the edge of a red petal before straightening up. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” he advises, revealing the tight orifice before pressing the tip of his middle finger in.

“Now you’re just underestimating m- -  _ngh!”_

Koujaku almost bites his tongue off at the intrusion, his body automatically tightening at the strange touch. His last male encounter may very well be a lifetime ago considering the way he unconsciously begins reacting like a blushing virgin (emphasis on ‘blushing’).

He takes a couple of deep breaths to calm down, tries his best to not glare at Noiz and the smirk that he knows would be there. But glancing back he is met with a rather serious look on the blond’s face, Noiz’ reassuring words from before echoing in his mind.

_“I’ll take good care of you.”_

“S-Shit…”

Granted that it’s not the most appropriate swear word at the moment but how else is Koujaku supposed to react when he has Noiz’ finger right up his… unmentionables and  _goddamn,_ he isn’t even sure what he should really feel about that. Physically-speaking, there’s nothing but a small, dismissible physical sting in his backside. Koujaku can easily endure much more than that but he can barely concentrate when his heart is pounding in his ears, thudding like it yearns to break free from his chest and run the hell away from here. Plus now his head is starting to hurt from all these damn thoughts and- -

“…Is that all you’ve got?”

Trust Koujaku to speak before he can finish thinking things through. But what else did he have to lose? All the days, months,  _years_ spent looking for something that will put meaning in his life and finally here he is with someone who might just have the answer. Of course he never accounted for the brat to quite literally put  _his_ meaning  _into_ him but is he really in a position to be finicky?

The rather obtrusive feeling of another finger pushing into his tight passage silences whatever questions still buzzing around in his head, the physical need finally overpowering the mental and emotional as Koujaku’s back arches, caving into that touch despite the increased discomfort. Trust the foolish moth to wander into the fire instead of away from it.

“You can always beg for more,” Noiz smirks, matching the snark that is apparently Koujaku's failsafe when faced with unfavorable situations.

Now that they've made it this far, Noiz is a little annoyed that he's still facing resistance. If anything, he should be the one putting up a resistance because sex is certainly not what he signed up for when he agreed to show up today. He even brought a freaking gift basket for crying out loud. Yet here he is, in all his naked glory, trying to work out the horizontal tango with a very uncooperative partner.

Not to say that he wasn't  _expecting_  sex to be brought to the table but that is a different tangent entirely. Besides, he wouldn't be in his current position if he didn't entirely consent to the situation.

Koujaku is tense, Noiz can read his hesitation like a neon bar sign in the dead of the night and he wants... he wants to strip it all away. Much like how easily their clothes have scattered on the floor. The second finger makes for a tighter fit but Noiz catches that hitch in Koujaku's breath that might just be the key. Experimentally, he probes deeper, rubbing slick pads against Koujaku's inner walls and listening close. The heat inside is packed, almost rigid with how Koujaku still refuses to relax, and Noiz can only imagine the pleasure-pain of sheathing his cock inside it but he can't get ahead of himself. Not with this. So he twists his fingers, broken and unmended as they are, to find the spot that is sure to break apart all of Koujaku's second-thoughts. 

“I'll give it to you real good if you ask for it.” He delivers the rhetoric with a coaxing massage on the older man's waist, palm fitting neatly against his contour. The easy grip also serves to hold Koujaku in place as Noiz pulls his fingers up until the very tip, spreading them apart and watching the puckered hole accommodate the stretch. “You wanted sex, right?” He slips in another finger, huffing as it gets harder to push in. “I'm giving it to you now. Are you willing to take it?”

Koujaku groans as Noiz pushes in all three digits. The pain is even more unbearable now but the tension gripping his chest is worse. He couldn’t breathe, long-suppressed memories of delirium brought about by the hands of a madman start to cloudhis mind. The feel of cold hands on his skin, darkness creeping on to the edges of his consciousness as a faceless monster presses in close, drinking in his cries and pathetic pleas for help…

No, that isn’t right.

The body that’s pressed against him now isn’t cold, those hands are firm yet oddly careful in their movements. There’s no foreboding rustle of heavy kimono fabric falling down pale thighs, no ominous clicking of needles against pots of poisoned ink. There is nothing but a heavy, hushed silence punctuated by the occasional gasp and shudder. A faint scent of drying acrylic and expensive aftershave drifts in the air, replacing his memory of sickly sweet incense punctuated by the acrid scent of burnt paper.

And perhaps most important of all…  _this isn’t him._

Koujaku feels disgusted about comparing Noiz to that man but at the same time, the difference gives him comfort. Perhaps this is just what he needed.

“… Wait, Noiz.”

The dark-haired man forces his eyes to open (when had he been keeping them shut?), glancing back at the blond still pressed to his back.

“Turn me around.”  

_I need to see you._

_I need to make sure it’s you._

It's an easy enough request and the process is over in a second but the one following it lasts half an eternity.

Noiz swallows, taking in the sight. The cheeky confidence is diluted, hinting now at some deep-seated fear that Noiz couldn't fathom. What is clear to him, however, is the visible relief in Koujaku's mien and the suddenly daunting significance of this act.

It's not just sex. (Very needy and ill-advised sex as it is.) But Noiz is also hoping to find answers from this encounter. They always communicated better with action rather than words, anyway. It's something of a litmus test, Noiz would conclude later on, to determine if all this tension between them could ever end up being a good thing. For now, however, he is occupied with more carnal needs that demand fulfilment.

Koujaku's wanton form is accented by the flush on his skin and the myths threaded into the satin bed sheets under him. His puckered hole is on full display, slick and looking as tight as it felt around his fingers just moments before. Noiz' cock twitches at the prospect of sheathing himself inside.

He puts his hand on the bend of Koujaku's knee, palm slowly sliding up the muscular thighs as his gaze goes ahead meets blood red eyes. Noiz' legs prop him up as he leans over, hands anchored on Koujaku's waist as he wordlessly presses a kiss to his lips.

When he pulls back, Noiz feels his heart skip at the intensity of the stare he's being regarded with. A faint smirk traces his kiss-swollen lips.

"What are you staring at?" he murmurs, fingers pressing into the trimmed waist. 

_“You.”_

The smile on Koujaku's face is that of immense relief, of pure unabashed joy as his eyes see that familiar face, that smug little grin. For a moment, the shadows of his past seem to recede, pushed back by the light of his present. Of course, his ‘light’ is a slightly annoying neon sign that tends to flicker on and off when he least expects it to but this is infinitely better than fumbling around blind in the dark.

The dark-haired man shifts slightly, accommodating the press of Noiz’ body against his own. He gives a small hiss as Noiz’ accidentally brushes against his neglected cock, his puckered entrance twitching at the contact.

“Fuck, how long are you gonna make me keep my knees up?”

Ruby finally wanders away from emerald, the flush on Koujaku’s cheeks darkening even as he tries to regain a fraction of his usual cockiness. Although, this time, the snark is completely lost and he ends up sounding like an irritated old man. Way to live up to his silly nickname.

“Just hurry up and do it already. Unless… you’ve changed your mind...?”

"Far from it," Noiz says almost too quickly, though his tone is low and serious. He's not confident that he has prepared Koujaku properly but the look on the man's face tells him he better forge ahead. Sitting back and reaching for a foil packet, Noiz makes quick work of rolling the condom onto his dick, mindful of the piercings there. (Nobody needs another torn condom incident. Though the consequences in this case would be marginally less complicated but, whatever...) He gets into position once he's all lubed up.

Koujaku's legs part a little wider for him and the head of his pierced member pushes in, meeting tight resistance. Eyes focus on the faint sheen of latex against their skin, watching as more and more of his cock is sheathed. He swallows, bites his tongue, keeping pace despite the deliriously packed heat that's now encasing him. A hiss and a muted curse comes from above, stalling Noiz further. He looks up, cocking a brow in addition to his question. "You alright?"

Koujaku might have considered himself mentally prepared for what is to come but getting used to the physical aspect is an entirely different matter. And the fact that Noiz’ dick just so happened to have some interesting ‘accessories’ only makes everything so much worse.

“Nng- -  _You and your damn piercings- -!”_

He tries his best to ignore the stinging sensation, forces himself to take deep, calming breaths and imagine something that does not involve plowing or ramming things into tight orifices. Maybe he should imagine the scenic countryside, rolling fields of grass, a high-walled stone dam encasing calm blue water…

But what’s this?

The dam seems to have sprung a leak! Good thing a young man with hair of spun gold is there to save everyone by  _shoving his goddamn pierced cock into the gushing hole- -_  

“- - Fuck, at least tell me you’re fully in.”

Koujaku glances at Noiz, his worry heightening at the look on his partner’s face.

"If you're down with being fucked by half a dick, then by all means..."

Noiz lets out a huff. Not to say anything of his own discomfort, he smirks at the face that Koujaku is making. He pulls back slightly, ladder piercings catching on the rim, experimentally pushing back in. The simple act sends jolts of pleasure up and down his spine. He shivers, grasping Koujaku's hips for support as he sinks deeper.

"Haa..." The sigh just slips out and Noiz' flushed cheeks darken upon hearing it. He lowers his chin to his chest, going for it again, rocking back and grinding in. Bright green eyes flick over to Koujaku. "You sure you don't want more?"

_Half??_ That was just half of his- -?

The complaint dies in Koujaku’s throat when Noiz’ piercings brush against a particularly sensitive spot, a sudden gasp escaping his lips as the pain is momentarily replaced by pleasure. Noiz must have noticed the reaction judging from the way he repeats it, teasing that one spot and driving Koujaku mad with confusion and desire.

“Nn- - You p-perverted brat- -"

Koujaku arches his back, briefly closing his eyes when Noiz’ dick pushes in deeper before retreating back to teasing the rim of his puckered hole. If his mind wasn’t so caught up in the haze of lust, Koujaku would have noticed how the blond is practically at war with himself. Noiz is biting down on his lip, trying to restrain the urge to just pound Koujaku senseless despite the older man’s discomfort. It's a torturous task.

“Just give me a minute.”

Koujaku closes his eyes again, small breaths escaping kiss-swollen lips as he tries to calm down for the nth time that day. If it were anyone else, they would have already walked out on him. The Rib leader turned artist knows just how lucky he is with Noiz, the irony of that thought not lost on him as a he looks up to give the youth a small, slightly lopsided smile.

“Alright. Give it to me, baby~”

Noiz thinks he's mishearing things until he sees the grin that Koujaku is sporting. Then the words catch up to him. A snort escapes, then another. Soon Noiz' shoulders are shaking trying to contain his laughter.

"What was  _that_?" amusement permeates the question. His chest feels lighter, warmer, when he meets Koujaku's gaze once more. There's a fondness in them that he hasn't quite recognized before; it's something that he can't help but reciprocate now given their… newfound connection. "Never mind," he dismisses his own query with a shake of the head. "If you want it so bad, then I won't hold back..."

Pushing Koujaku's legs up, Noiz folds the man's broad stature until his knees are pressed to his chest, asshole gaping wide. Koujaku regards him, the challenge aflame in his eyes as he puts his hands over the ones Noiz is using to hold his appendages in place. The position brings their faces closer and Noiz watches the minute changes in Koujaku's face as his cock slowly slides in to the hilt. Golden lashes flutter, lips parting to moan at the novel sensation as the body beneath him adjusts around the intrusion.


	5. Chapter 5

Koujaku never expected to find so much relief in having Noiz so close to him. He can feel the blond’s breath on his skin, their lips brushing in an almost-kiss as Noiz pushes forward. Koujaku’s hands tighten their hold before he lets out a deep breath, urging himself to relax despite the intrusion. The stinging is still there but it's getting more bearable, pleasurable almost. Noiz finally stills and Koujaku gasps at the strange sensation of being …  _full_.

“…feels weird,” he murmurs, grimacing slightly as he experimentally clenches around Noiz’ cock.

That seemed to push several buttons as the blond bites back a loud gasp, Koujaku’s passage tightening impossibly around his cock like a vice.

“Too much?” the dark-haired man smirks. It may be his ass on the line but any chance to taunt the brat is still too amusing to pass up.

“You're much more of a tight-ass than I expected,” Noiz retorts, mirroring the smirk set upon him. "But you feel so damn good..." He executes a series of slow and shallow thrusts to prove it, grinding his hips in an effort to rediscover that bundle of nerves that had Koujaku whimpering the first time.

The dark-haired man shudders at the compliment, practically writhing beneath the blond as those words hit him harder than any of those (admittedly weak) thrusts. He often praises bed partners to help make the entire experience more enjoyable but never expected that the same thing will now be directed at him.

And damn, it feels  _amazing_.

“You’re…not so bad yourself, brat…” Koujaku murmurs in between pants. He moves his hands to cup Noiz’ face before pulling him into a deep, slow kiss.

A sudden shift from Noiz’ hips wrings a gasp from Koujaku’s lips, his teeth accidentally biting the blond’s tongue. The familiar tang of copper coupled by the sudden spark of pleasure down below makes Koujaku moan, the sound deep and rumbling like thunder before a storm.

“Do that again.”

Tasting blood in his mouth only adds to his arousal. Strange how that works but Noiz never shied away from pain. More importantly, he and Koujaku are finally on the same wavelength.

His thrusts maintain the angle and rhythm that set the other man moaning so deliciously against him. "Like this?" he asks, the snap of his hips resounding in a  _smack_  as it meets the curve of Koujaku's ass. Encouraged by the heady noises and the desperate arch of the body below him, Noiz applies more force in his movements.

The cut on his tongue stings and he can still feel blood seeping out. Noiz pants, driving his cock deeper; his balls are pulled taut against his body, heavy and full. He leaves a fleeting kiss on Koujaku's lips, straightening his back so he can hit that elusive prostate with better accuracy. Long legs unfold with him and he's granted a full view of Koujaku's cock, soaked in a puddle of its own precum. Just the sight of it rouses a groan from the depths of his chest.

"Hey..." Noiz breathes out. "Do you..? Should I..?" He can only provide a vague nod towards the stiff length lying parallel to Koujaku's abs.

The sounds pouring from Koujaku’s lips are unfamiliar even to himself; loud gasps and throaty moans that would have embarrassed him to no end if he was coherent enough to realize his own (inevitable) undoing.

"Ahh, fuck- -!"

He arches his back once more, meeting Noiz’ thrusts with renewed fervor as the blond hits his prostate dead-on. Once, twice, a couple more times… Koujaku bites his lip as he feels a familiar heat pooling low in his stomach. Noiz’ words prompt him to glance downward, his ‘problem’ coming into full view. Embarrassment finally hits Koujaku like a ten-ton brick, his cheeks turning a darker shade of red.

“T-That’s- -“

Another particularly hard thrust has him moaning, his eyes falling shut as another wave of pleasure threatens to push him off the brink. If Noiz keeps moving like that, the dark-haired man might just come without anyone touching him and  _that_ is something he would never live down.

“Hold on, let me just--“

Before Koujaku can grasp his own leaking cock, Noiz grinds forward, metal studs practically etching his (undecided) claim onto the intimate space. The dark-haired man gasps loudly, a hair’s breadth away from losing himself completely. 

"You're so noisy," Noiz points out, though it’s far from an admonishment. It says nothing of his own harsh exhales brought upon by his exertions. Lean legs draw him closer, knees digging into his sides and pulling him in until Koujaku's inner walls are rubbing him raw with even the slightest movement. As the older man shivers beneath him, Noiz is treated to vibrations that jostle his balls, heightened tension coiling around his cock that feels just about ready to explode.

“ _You_  try taking it up the  _ah- -sweet fuck- -“_

Koujaku lifts a hand to his mouth, biting hard at his knuckles in a pathetic attempt to stifle the embarrassing sounds he's making. The heat pooling in his loins is close to unbearable, frustration and another unidentifiable emotion making his chest ache and his eyes water. The initial pain is nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure now sending his senses into overload. And truth is it makes him feel exposed,  _weak_. He is losing so much of himself in this moment but… he honestly doesn’t care. Not anymore.

Similarly, there's a constriction around Noiz chest that isn't at all helped by the sight of Koujaku being a right hot mess as he's getting fucked. It's not something that has gotten him off before but now he's sure that the image wouldn't be something so easily forgotten. Noiz delivers a particularly drawn out grind, rubbing his piercings against the slick passage just to watch Koujaku throw his head back, chest expanding with a moan.

“Nng~”

Koujaku tastes copper on his tongue once more, moving his now-wounded hand from his mouth to his neglected cock. He is so close it fucking  _hurts._ Just one quick tug should be enough. Now if only Noiz could slow the hell down so he can concentrate.

Noiz notices Koujaku reaching for his own cock again and he smirks. "Do you want to come?" The  _old man_  inflection is hinted with the twist he adds to the sharp thrust that follows his slow grind.

That particularly forceful snap sends Koujaku reeling, the head of Noiz’ cock ramming straight into his prostate. So close. He is  _so fucking close_.

“Noiz, I- -“

Koujaku wordlessly reaches for the blond’s hand still gripping his waist.

Green eyes widen a fraction when - instead of jerking himself off to his climax - Koujaku holds onto his hand with a vice-grip. Noiz knows they're both desperate to come and as tempting as it is to make Koujaku beg for it, the mist dousing the fire in those red eyes prompt Noiz for quick action.

He twines their fingers together, pushing Koujaku's arm up as he hovers over him. Strong legs squeeze at his middle, hips slowing down to accommodate the change in position. His free hand traces the contour of Koujaku's body, lips catching the dewdrops on dark lashes. "Go on, then," Noiz murmurs, kissing the slope of his cheek as his wandering hand finally settles around Koujaku's member. He grips it tightly by the base, stroking the length with the same decisiveness as he pounds into Koujaku's ass, seeking the same swift release.

The touch of Noiz’ fingers slipping into the scarred, rough grooves of his hand is a single drop of clarity in the midst of suffocating heat and desire. A gasp leaves Koujaku’s lips as the taut string finally snaps, the dark-haired man’s world exploding in white as pleasure consumes him.

It feels like an eternity before Noiz’ own body stills, caught in the throes of its own passion before a loud groan leaves his lips. For a long time there is no sound in the room save for their labored breathing. Koujaku’s eyelids feel heavy, fatigue slowly crawling into the edges of his vision. Only an odd, tingling warmth down below keeps him awake.

Is it normal to feel so… well, to feel so much of  _everything_ after sex? Not to wax poetic but Koujaku has never felt anything like this before. Then again, that could just be due to the fact that this is his _proper_ first time on the receiving end. (And  _man,_  it feels  _so damn good_  but like hell he would admit that to anyone).

“O-Oi…”

Still-hazy ruby seeks emerald, the older man’s fingers slightly tightening their grip on Noiz’ own hand.

“You should move.”

Koujaku tries to shift a bit, immediately regretting his decision when he feels something warm stir inside him. Worse, he can feel his own cock twitching back to life at the sensation. Goddammit.

“Oi, brat. Don’t tell me you’ve passed out.”

"Mmn. I've got more stamina than that," Noiz mumbles, his statement countered by his rather drowsy tone. It's not like he can help it. That orgasm flooded his system with endorphins and he'd very much prefer not to move and just soak up the blissful feeling. Noiz breathes in sync with the slow rise and fall of the chest beneath him, a subconscious decision given the way they're wrapped around each other in the afterglow of their sexual release. With his length still buried inside Koujaku, every minute shift from the man sends an anticipatory current through his body.

Noiz' hips grind in before he could stop himself, a groan slipping out at the heightened sensations surrounding his spent member. Squeezing his eyes shut, Noiz berates himself for having lost all semblance of self-control.

One fuck and that should have been it. One fuck and he should be out the door, curiosity and libido sated, well on the way to pushing the issue to the back of his mind. The entire encounter to become something he’d analyze at length once he has distanced himself from the situation that’s messing with more than just his logical mind.

Except he keeps laying there, listening to the man's heartbeats, trying to look for an (illogical) answer in the maze of ink over taut pecs. Koujaku squeezes his hand and Noiz  _melts_  just a little more. He really doesn't want to get up at this rate but another insistent call of his name comes and he knows there's no delaying it.

Gingerly, he props himself up to meet Koujaku's gaze. The high flush on his cheeks speaks volumes.

"Want another round?"

“Mmh~ we really shouldn’t…”

Koujaku smirks at the weariness on Noiz’ frame. The blond’s chest expands and contracts with heavy breaths, his hair more than a little tussled. He looks pretty damn tired but the flush on his skin indicates he's far from finished. That makes two of them then.

The dark-haired man languidly rolls his hips upward, savoring the gasp it tears from Noiz’ lips as his over-sensitized cock is jostled.

“You have work tomorrow, right?”

A tanned arm slings over Noiz’ pale shoulders, pulling him down as Koujaku murmurs dark promises against the shell of his ear.

“We should stop now while we still can~”

Sharp teeth nip at the soft flesh, tugging before a sly, wet tongue soothes the bite.

“Don’t worry ‘bout leaving me lonely. I’ll make sure to savor every mind-blowing moment,” he smirks, punctuating his words with a sharp intentional squeeze around Noiz’ cock still sheathed deep within him. 

Noiz' whole body shivers at the motion, a guttural whine escaping. His blood simmers at the tone used on him, a definitive  _want_  crawling under his heated skin. Sex permeates the air he breathes in and his chest rumbles with the prospect of  _more._

"You, ah, don't sound like you want to stop," he replies, half-groaning as he experimentally pulls back. Face pressed against Koujaku's neck, Noiz sheathes his half-hard dick into the slick entrance, arousal winning over the discomfort of fucking into a condom already filled with his seed.

The body beneath him tenses and Noiz licks the Adam's apple bobbing over the slim neck. He kisses his way up to the pulse point that's racing beneath tan skin, half-lidded gaze connecting with an equally heated look.

"And I don't want to hear about work ethics from  _you_." Noiz nips at the strong jawline, smearing cum as he goes about groping Koujaku's chest. "I'm not the one whose needy ass is going to be too sore to sit tomorrow." Another roll of his hips earns him a tighter squeeze, Noiz could feel himself getting hard again; a thrill that doubles at the feel of a similarly stiffening prick now poking at his torso.

Noiz seals their lips together, moaning around the ready tongue that invades his mouth.

Koujaku smirks into the kiss, tangling his tongue with Noiz’ as he gratefully swallows the blond’s gasps and moans. Not even the threat of a sore behind can distract him from the steady heat returning to his lower half. His heartbeat starts to pick up speed once more.

The painter closes his eyes, savors the scents and sounds, the overwhelming heat and closeness as the flame within his body grows unbidden. A flame that threatens to consume him and his lover, leaving nothing but ashes and spent bodies in its wake.

_Lover_ , huh.

Koujaku opens his eyes and caresses Noiz’ flushed cheek with unexpected gentleness.

“… Hey.”

Lust-darkened emerald meets ruby, something not quite decipherable lurks in Koujaku’s gaze. Maybe this is not the right time to talk about this…

Another shift of their hips draws a moan from his lips.

_Definitely_  not the right time to talk about this.  

“... Y-you sure you want to keep that on?” Koujaku murmurs, gesturing vaguely to Noiz’ cock half-buried in him.

"Pretty sure I want to keep fucking you."

Noiz grins as he slows down, leaning into the palm against his cheek. Driving his cock into a skin-tight latex squelches the cum he'd shot into it mere minutes before – definitely not the sexiest thing to consider when they're about to initiate round two. He grazes his teeth over the meat of Koujaku's thumb, tasting sweat as his tongue follows the path.

The hot constriction of a taut body around him is incomparable, not to mention the way Koujaku is plain oozing with sex appeal. Noiz' hands wander low between their stomachs, finding the dark-haired man's erection. He rubs his palm all over the slick head, kissing Koujaku's wrist as scarred digits grip his face tighter.

"Unless you have a better idea...?"

A rather cheeky thought forms in Koujaku’s mind but trying to remember it is like grasping for purchase on a slippery slope in the middle of a monsoon rain. The sensations wracking his frame are intense, overwhelming. It would be so easy to just surrender and let himself become completely undone for the second time that night but …no, he can’t possibly be that selfish.

Or perhaps he  _is_ but that just gives him yet another reason to go through with this plan.

“I do.  _Move._ ”

It takes all his willpower and strength to push Noiz down, a slight groan catching in his throat as his passage is stretched by the sudden movement. A sharp sting tells him it's a horrible idea but there is nothing else he can do while he is perched awkwardly on top of Noiz like that.

Well, except maybe  _give him hell_.

“Ahhh...  _Fuck_ …”

Pain returns with burning intensity, now spreading down to Koujaku’s arms and thighs as he tries to support his trembling frame. Despite the discomfort, he bears down on Noiz’ cock, taking the entirety in one fell swoop before tightening around it. His movements are torturously slow and tight, almost like he's trying to tug Noiz’ cock right out of his nether regions.

Noiz is mewling like a cat in heat, breathless as Koujaku's ass clamps down on him, piercings digging into his cock. Having been unceremoniously rolled onto his back, Noiz is left grasping at the satin sheets, spine arching as Koujaku works above. 

The way the man rolls his hips, practically squashing Noiz' sac underneath the firm curvature of his backside, is bordering on desperate, focused on a single task that hardly crosses Noiz' mind because _he. is. just. so. dizzy with arousal._ His eyes roll to the back of his head in the same way Koujaku tosses his head back, sinking in to the hilt and groaning as he contracts around Noiz' erection before he starts pulling away again, every single metal stud catching on the sore rim of his entrance with the nearly-haphazard move.

“T-They made this look so easy- - -  _Oh._ ”

Koujaku pauses when he feels something strange cling to his passage. His suspicions are confirmed when he glances down to see the condom trailing behind him, pulled cleanly off Noiz’ cock by sheer pressure and friction.

“I did it~” the painter smirks triumphantly, eyes glazed over with fatigue, lust, and very little coherence.

Noiz lies there with a raw throat and moistened gaze. The sudden loss of that intense pleasure stuns him, to say the least. He wipes a hand over his eyes, pushing his sweat-damp bangs away in the same move. What he finds is Koujaku straddling his hips, propped high over his obscenely red and veined prick, with a used condom dangling between the man's asscheeks. Globs of his ejaculation are splattered over his groin.

Koujaku looks entirely too pleased with himself and Noiz isn't about to have that because you don't just ride a man like some racehorse on its last lap and then  _stop_ an inch before the finish line.

"You--" His voice is a wreck, pinching oddly like he'd just hit puberty. He pushes himself up on shaky arms so he could level a glare at the culprit for this embarrassing predicament. Finding the wrinkled condom still stuck and dripping, Noiz rips it off and tosses it aside. "You ridiculous horny old pervert--"

"Hey, that was supposed to be sexy!" Koujaku cuts in, glare masking his disappointment. Damn brat can't even appreciate a good thing.

"...Tsk." Noiz looks away, blushing and defeated. Evidence to support Koujaku's claim is (literally) too hard to ignore. "...You're still ridiculous."

Seeing that cute pout makes Koujaku chuckle. He guides Noiz' face back to him, engaging in a kiss as he sinks onto the seat of the blond's lap when a sharp pain punctuates his backside. Koujaku freezes for one second before forcing himself to continue, hisses disguised as moans muffled against pliant lips. Judging by the eager way Noiz pulls them closer, stiff cocks rubbing together, Koujaku's efforts are generously paying off. He tentatively rolls his hips. His ass pricks with pain again but the discomfort is washed away when Noiz breaks their kiss with a gasp. "R-Ready for round two?"

"Definitely," Noiz agrees, taking an appreciative look between them. "Are you going to ride my dick like pornstar again?" He squeezes Koujaku's ass to tease him but what he gets is a flinch. 

Koujaku hides the twist on his lips with a kiss to Noiz' forehead. "I'd even go down on you bare~"

For a moment, Noiz' reprimand slips from his tongue. The promise of that intimate heat bearing down on him _without_ barriers makes his cock twitch. He looks up at Koujaku and feels the spark between them flare anew. "You dirty tease," Noiz accuses.

"You think I won't do it~?" A coy smirk curls over his features. Koujaku puts a hand to the blond's chest, pushing him down so he could follow through, but Noiz grabs his arm halfway into the recline."Hm?"

"I think you're hurt," Noiz says in all seriousness, thankful for the slight sanity he retains. "Wasn't able to prepare you enough given our... haste..."

"You underestimate me," Koujaku smirks though his gaze has gone softer, touched by the unexpected thoughtfulness. "I can take more than a little pain."

"That's not the point," Noiz insists. "And as amusing as it is, I'd rather not have you blowing up my Coil complaining that you can't sit tomorrow."

"Hey." 

"Besides, I've got other ways to make you come."

The sensual promise in that tone is heightened with the way Noiz trails his hand up Koujaku's arm. His breath hitches as Noiz pushes up against him, urging a change in position. Koujaku's side hits the bed and Noiz crowds into his space, wandering hand settling on his cheek, fingertips hovering over the inked skin around his eye. "Noiz..."

"Don't think," Noiz advises as they lean in to share a kiss, unhurried and deep as they find their footing in this new setup. He understands that this is no longer the trial stage, that he should've just left after the first round if he wanted to keep things anywhere close to what they _had ---_ or what they didn't have, rather. (Still don't, a voice in his head whispers but Noiz quiets it, never one to be called a hypocrite.) "Let's just..."

"I don't want this to be a one-time thing," Koujaku whispers almost like it’s a secret, imploring Noiz with his eyes. Noiz fits snugly in his arms, their legs have tangled together without conscious effort. The current picture is a complete 180 from, well, everything before it, when all they wanted was to keep their distances for self-preservation. Not anymore. Not when Koujaku has been given a full course meal rather than just a taste. He thought it would be alright to get a one night stand but now he has discovered that it could never be enough. He wants more than what sex could bring. "I want--"

"I know. You've told me. What I want is..." Noiz pecks his lips. "This. Right now, this is what I want. And this is what you've wanted as well." His thumb caresses Koujaku's cheek. "I don't think I can decidewhat's going to happen after but..."

"I have you now."

"You do." Noiz smiles as Koujaku's forehead touches his, lips molding together in another kiss that's not quite a promise but it does clear the air, if only for the moment. "Mmh. And you're seriously fucking hot," he murmurs as they part and he pushes Koujaku to lie on his back. "Can't believe I almost missed out on this."

"Well, aren't you just lucky~" Koujaku jests, getting back into the mood. 

Noiz climbs atop him, bracing himself with arms on either side of the man's torso. "Very," Noiz agrees, biting his split lip as he rolls his hips for them to find their perfect fit again. Koujaku does not disappoint, the hard line of his cock rubbing against Noiz' piercings. Meeting the heated gaze, Noiz dips low, planting a kiss on Koujaku's chest. "And now _you're_ about to get lucky."

Bright green eyes are clear with intention and Koujaku can't look away, even as golden lashes hide them from view. Noiz kisses a steady path down his chest, hands already working on his length. Koujaku shivers at the tentative lick Noiz affords the flushed head, the hot press of his tongue scoops up pearly precum and Koujaku tries his damnedest to stay in control.

With his fist wrapped around the base, Noiz slowly takes stiff prick, sucking on the head to wring a pleased moan from Koujaku. He smirks, mouth descending further, cheeks hollowed to get a better feel.

Watching Noiz' head bob up and down his shaft makes Koujaku's balls tighten, a feat not missed by the blond's dexterous hands that squeeze around them a second later, making the dark-haired man thrust his hips despite his efforts to keep still. "S-Sorry," Koujaku stammers, cock twitching with another jolt of arousal as Noiz hums around it. "Ahn... Noiz..."

He works his fist up the slick length to make up for his withdrawal from it, swollen lips set to an easy smile. "Mm. That's fine," he assures, licking the veined shaft and playfully biting the tip. He kisses the junction of Koujaku's groin, teasing taut sacs with his lips. "You're welcome to fuck my mouth," Noiz offers, teeth and tongue moving back up. "Want to see how deep I can take you."

"You..." Koujaku lets out a laugh, relieved and more than a little excited at the prospect. "And you tell me _I'm_ the pervert? Honestly..."

Noiz raises his brows, not quite purring but the grin on him shows his delight all the same.

Koujaku shakes his head, extending a hand that he threads into Noiz' hair. "I'd feel bad if I accidentally rip out your hair," he murmurs. "It really is nice... and soft..."

"Not as nice as having your dick in my mouth I bet." Noiz winks just for the hell of it. "Shall we?" At Koujaku's (embarrassed) nod, Noiz wraps his lips around the head and sinks back in.

Hot breath breezes out his lungs, eyes half-lidded as slick heat encases him. Small puffs of air tickle his sensitive skin and Koujaku whimpers at the swift progression. Noiz sucks him off like a parched man given a popsicle, all wet slurps and eager suction. The head of his cock hits the back of Noiz' throat soon enough and the younger man stills, breathing hard for a moment. Koujaku runs his finger through strawberry-blond locks, attempting to soothe both Noiz and himself at the same time. "Okay?" he asks.

Noiz swallows around the shaft, tongue flat against the thick vein running on the underside. The hand on his head almost feels like its petting him and that's somewhat reassuring. Leaning into the soft touch, Noiz looks up at Koujaku and electricity sparks between the knobs of his spine. His own dick throbs between his legs but he has other matters to take care of. Noiz scrapes a bit of teeth along the length as he pulls back, gauging the man's reaction.

Koujaku grips Noiz' hair, hips jumping at the sharp sensation, heart pounding even louder in his chest. The blond retracts his teeth then, sticking to pleasuring him with lips and tongue. A hand lands on his knee and then ventures up to his thigh, squeezing briefly at his hip –  Noiz' wordless demand for him to move. Koujaku does so, slowly, testing out his rhythm with how much Noiz can take. 

The blunt head smears a bitter viscosity on the roof of his mouth but Noiz hardly thinks about it, focused more on the grunts that leave Koujaku's lips telling him that this will be a much briefer encounter than the first. Koujaku moves in earnest now, a dusting of deep red all over his tan skin, moaning wantonly as he works himself to completion. Noiz swallows a mix of his own saliva and Koujaku's precum, keeps his breathing in check as he bobs his head to meet the latter's thrusts.

"Noiz… ah... _Noiz!_ " Koujaku's litany is a ragged one. All his imaginings are nowhere close to the reality and overwhelming sensations of being with Noiz like this. And the brat is right, there's no point in being meticulous about the details at the moment. There will be plenty of time to think about what this means, what it could lead to. Hopefully when he's not a squeeze away from coming a second time within thirty minutes. "G-Get off, Noiz!" he gasps with no gentle pull at the other's hair, stilling his hips and shivering as the blond (ruefully) complies.

"I thought the point was to get _you_  off," Noiz snarks, working his jaw. Koujaku's hand still hasn't left his hair and the artist uses that to bring him up.

"I'm close," Koujaku murmurs, coaxing Noiz to sit on his lap, erect cocks en garde. "Want you to, ah, come with me..."

Noiz rolls his eyes, muttering "How very sappy of you" but he lets Koujaku take his hand anyway. There's a brief squeeze before Koujaku puts his hand on a broad shoulder, urging him closer with the other that has previously been twined in strawberry blonde locks and is now resting at the curve of his waist. Their new position leaves little guesswork as to how things would go. Hands squeeze their lengths together, metal piercings adding to the heady stimulation. Noiz closes his eyes, head lolling to one side as Koujaku presses their bodies closer, mouth latching onto the exposed neck.


	6. Chapter 6

"That better not leave a mark above my shirt collar," Noiz grunts, body tingling at the feel of teeth marking its path down his neck. He pinches his own piercing, kneading the heads of their cocks together to wring vibrations that sink into his flesh through Koujaku's bite.

"Don't worry," Koujaku assures him, prodding the faintly bruising flesh with the flat side of his tongue. It's a series of faint red patches along the junction of the blond's neck and shoulder. He smirks at his handiwork, nuzzling into the same sweaty skin as he fondles at the heavy sacs below. "It's nothing, ah, permanent," he whispers, giving Noiz' Hafada piercing a tug.

" _Scheiße_ ," Noiz swears, hips canting up as cum spurts from the tip of his member. He breathes in deeply, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he reaches his peak once more.

Koujaku chuckles, raising his head to look Noiz in the eye. "Did you just curse me in German?"

Short brows tick as Noiz huffs out, "Yeah, so?"

"What did you say?" Koujaku engages Noiz in a brief kiss, continuously pumping their lengths. Their hands meet and twine together, moving as one now to bring them both over the edge.

"Tighter," Noiz commands, contracting his fist and urging Koujaku to do the same. He nips at the older man's jaw. "Want to feel like I'm fucking your sweet ass again... Ah..."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Koujaku gets that phantom feeling of being stuffed full of Noiz' cock and he groans. A hot mouth drinks up the sound and Koujaku grinds upwards, seeking friction wherever he could get it. "You b-brat... Why didn't you just fuck me then? Haaa... I could've _hah_  taken it..."

Noiz hones in on that desperate voice, kissing Koujaku's lips, cheek, and jaw. "So needy~ Maybe I won't think twice next time," he muses airily as their hands give a harsh tug. "I'll just give it to you... hard… and fast... until you're all wrecked..."

"Yes," Koujaku gasps, dilated gaze focused on Noiz. "Want you... Just like that..."

Gyrating bodies move with single-minded purpose. Noiz' fingernails dig into Koujaku's back when he orgasms, lean frame stiffening as he spills his seed over them. There's a faint cry of " _Koujaku_ " that reverberates in the room and Koujaku's hand clenches almost painfully around their members as the man reaches his own climax. Tense forms are molded together for the next couple of moments where they once again attempt to regain their bearings.

Koujaku moves first, wiping a cum-stained hand on his waist as he pulls away. Noiz lazily keeps his arm slung over Koujaku's shoulder, meeting the inquisitive gaze that's roaming his face. Kiss-swollen lips are slightly parted but the words don't come right away. Most likely that they're both busy keeping the tsunami of questions at bay. But silences between them are never meant to stretch for so long and Koujaku takes it upon himself to brave the odds. "Was that good for you?"

Bright eyes blink at him, uncomprehending. What did Koujaku mean by 'good'? Good that they have unleashed the potent sexual tension that's been hanging over their heads for the past months, maybe years? Good that they have brushed over the plausibility of a next encounter? Good -- 

"That was fucking fantastic," Koujaku exclaims, only to bashfully settle down. "For me, I mean... "

"It wasn't a bad way to spend my evening," Noiz responds, still breathing hard. He toys with the longer locks of Koujaku's hair, an easy smile rising to his lips. He leisurely extracts himself from the older man, scrunching his nose at the whitish splatters all over his body; no way to tell which came from who. "Very messy, though."

"You can use my shower," Koujaku offers, empty hands curling into a fist on his knees.  _Keep cool_ , he tells himself. Noiz wouldn't just up and leave him... right? The younger man isn't that type, Koujaku hopes, trying to get a grip on his deflating sense of success. On one hand he finally got what he'd been craving for but for it to come at the cost of... what? Koujaku is...

"—not listening to me?"

Koujaku startles, finding Noiz already on his feet.

"Thinking with your dick, still?" Noiz's words carry no malice but he does take a pointed look at Koujaku's crotch. The man flushes and Noiz grins. "I asked you which way to the bathroom? I'm going to clean up." 

"Oh." Koujaku slides off the bed. "Right over here."

Automatic doors part before them, revealing a bathroomstyled in a minimalist fashion much like the rest of the studio. Cool gray tiles and mute red shelving furnish the area.

Noiz steps in, bare feet saved from the cold floor by a soft rug. He eyes the array of products stored inside with piqued interest, parting the shower curtain (decorated with swooping sparrows) to reveal a modest tub with a shower overhead. "Total bachelor pad," he concludes, glancing back at Koujaku who remains at the door, watching him. "What's with that look? You want to join me?"

Koujaku blinks, still not quite out of his afterglow’s stupor but coherent enough to recognize a taunt when he hears one. Then again, when _doesn’t_ Noiz speak like that? 

Well, maybe when he’s whispering things into Koujaku’s ear and – no, no, no. They’ve had enough of that for tonight. Besides, as much as his pride won’t allow him to admit it aloud, Koujaku might not make it alive tomorrow if they keep going.

“Nah. I figure there won’t be enough space with your chubby bunny butt crammed in there.”

The dark-haired man throws Noiz a slightly lopsided grin as he cleans himself up with the aid of the nearby faucet and some small towels.

Noiz sweeps the shower curtain closed. "Not my fault you can't afford a bigger bathtub~" His lilting jest echoes over the rush of faucet water from the other side. He busies himself with a quick wash, borrowing soap and forcibly not thinking of how this same fragrance smelled when mixed with Koujaku's musk.

Sounds of retreating footsteps allow him some reprieve. Noiz rinses under the cold shower spray, body temperature evening out, rousing thoughts swirling down the drain.

Koujaku is out the room in three minutes flat, a bathrobe wrapped loosely around his frame as he walks back to the studio.

The broken, twisted wreck of a stool lay motionless like some souvenir from the war, several sticks of charcoal scattered like tiny unlit dynamite. A half-finished portrait sits atop the mess.

“…You might need to bring me more than a gift basket if this is what happens after every session,” Koujaku speaks with slight mocking acidity as he picks the sketchbook up.

Noiz dries himself with a towel that's hanging nearby, stepping out just in time to catch Koujaku's little quip.

" _If_ this is what happens at every session, you won't ever get that painting done." Noiz picks up their clothes off the floor, segregating his own from Koujaku's, laying them out on the bed before putting on his boxers.

"You got food?"

“What part of ‘starving artist’do you not understand?”

At the mention of being a 'starving artist' Noiz makes a grand gesture of looking around the far-from-shabby studio, not needing any words to express his cynicism at that claim.

Koujaku chuckles, only half of his attention on the unfinished drawing as the other half of his mind is still in shock at how this is turning out to be one of his more painless post-sex scenarios. In fact, the only proof that they were practically ravaging each other a few moments ago is the slight throbbing in Koujaku’s nether regions (something he expects to go away by morning).

"Well, we do have some wine.”

He deposits the sketchpad on a nearby counter before taking the bottle from the gift basket Noiz had brought with him; its pale contents shimmer slightly under the faint ambient light.

"How does _fancy wine and delivery pizza dinner date_ sound to you?"

"Very romantic," Noiz snickers, navigating his coil as he walks over to settle on the couch – a strategic halfway point between them. He has to admit, though, that while he's not terribly starving, having exerted some pretty strenuous effort just now gives him the feeling of a rather empty stomach. Delivery pizza sounds very appetizing, which is why the holographic screen soon displays the webpage of his favorite pizza place. "So what do you want?"

"They have seafood, all-meat, garden-variety..." Noiz dictates the menu with mild interest, it's not the classiest pizza parlor out there but it delivers quickly (from his experience) and the food is sumptuous on its own. Seeing the bottle of wine in Koujaku's hand, however, decides for him. "Neapolitan," the blond states abruptly. "Should complement the drink," Noiz explains seeing the older man's bemused look. "You want extra toppings?"

“I don’t think your pizza place has _ramen_ so I’m fine with just that.”

Koujaku settles beside Noiz on the couch, careful to maintain a respectable distance between them. Far enough to keep their elbows from awkwardly rubbing together but close enough so their hands would touch if either one dared to put them down on the dyed leather.

Silence drifts, punctuated by the faint beeping from Noiz’ coil as he completes the order. Koujaku leans back to stretch his legs, grimacing slightly when he hears a faint pop.

“Damn, looks like you bent me out of shape.”

"I'll be more careful next time I bend you over, then," says Noiz flippantly, switching off his coil once he'd been assured of delivery within 30 minutes (or it's free). Only when the screens disappear and he’s faced with this odd look from Koujaku does he realize the implications of his words. He bites his lower lip only to flinch a little, accidentally aggravating the cut there.

"Okay," he starts anew, pressing the pad of his thumb against the cut. "I was really hoping that whole ‘sex changes a person’ thing is a lie but it's pointless to pretend we can go back to normal after this.”

“Never go back to being just friends with an ex,” Koujaku states, ruby eyes gleaming with experience, though not quite looking directly at the blond.

“… A bit extreme but yes, same thing, I suppose,” Noiz grudgingly agrees. He meets Koujaku's eyes but averts his gaze soon after. "I thought I could do that… with you, with this but…” He fills his lungs with air, exhaling slowly. “I hated what happened before in Midorjima. After the gallery show. I felt so restless and confused when you left. Ignoring you and being ignored _by_  you did not help one bit so–" Catching his own rambling, Noiz makes a frustrated sound. "What exactly are we going to do about this?"

Koujaku feels his cheeks heat up at the implications of Noiz’ words, his gaze practically boring holes into the blond’s side as he slowly turns to face him.

_“What exactly are we going to do about this?”_

Several thoughts start popping into Koujaku’s mind, their orderliness and coherency taking the dark-haired man by surprise. It seems that the countless times he has spent staring into nothing and contemplating life and all its intricacies is finally paying off.

“…Well, we’re not fuck buddies because we’re technically not buddies and we certainly haven’t done it more than once.”

Koujaku’s tone is light, almost casual as he straightens up and attempts to stretch the knots out of his lower back.

“Saying we’re partners sounds like we’re entering a business venture together. Unless that business involves romping in the sheets then we’re not going to get anywhere.”

Warm ruby holds fast to pale emerald as a small smile tugs at Koujaku’s lips, his hand inching closer to Noiz’. 

“What do  _you_ think is going on?”

Noiz absolutely _hates_  getting his own question thrown back at him. He lets Koujaku know as much with the glare (and the pout) he sends his way.

"I think..." And here, Noiz furiously subdues the urge to look away and hide because _god damn_ they're not going to make any progress if he keeps on doing that. "We're past the point of acting like we know better than whatever circumstance it is that keeps trying to make this happen. I have nothing else to lose, anyway, and you've certainly shown that you're serious about this so...”

The brief pause gives Noiz a chance to breathe, to quiet down the contradicting thoughts in his head.

Koujaku’s expression is easy, waiting for Noiz to come to his own conclusions, hoping against hope for the best. He holds on to his patience – and by god he _has_ been patient. Through all those canvases he spent secretly creating his magnum opus, through their disastrous first date, through all the time between then and now, Koujaku has been nothing but patient.

Noiz recognizes this, as much as he now recognizes that he _wants_ a second date. A proper one, unlike their first stumbling attempt at a relationship, and Koujaku has evidently chosen to place balance of it all in Noiz’ hands. It sounds like a heavy burden but only because Noiz always thought that he is expected to carry it alone. But now he sees the real score, staring back at him through a tender red gaze.

“Maybe I should give you a proper chance."

It feels like a huge weight is lifted off his chest with the same breath that it takes him to say those words. He grins, acknowledging that he has pretty much given in to what Koujaku wants but… it doesn’t feel like giving up. "I'm not about to say no to more awesome sex, in any case."

Koujaku returns the grin, sharing Noiz’ relief for a few precious moments.

“Yeah,  _you_ ’d say that.”

The air around them shifts, heavy and foreboding atmosphere fading into something akin to thin mist that covers the streets after an entire night of heavy rain. It feels like they have finally reached the end of an important chapter in their lives ( _their lives_ , how preposterous does that sound?). And yet… it also feels like the start of something new. Like the proverbial calm before another storm, the breathless pause before the boat tips over the edge of a waterfall.

“I’ll win you over, you’ll see. Then you’ll fall head-over-heels for me.”

Noiz sinks into his seat, surveying Koujaku with curious eyes. He feels almost giddy at what this new arrangement could bring into his life.

"I'd love to see you try."

Finally, Koujaku's hand reaches Noiz with a feather-light touch. Noiz' expression blinks with surprise but he soon realizes its purpose. A faint laugh leaves him as he turns his hand around, their fingers lacing and palms pressing together.

"Oh, I will."

_Nothing left to do but to close our eyes, hands gripped together, and jump._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is done. finally done. holy crap i can probably die now.  
> play [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpOULjyy-n8) at my funeral so everyone knows i actually accomplished something.


End file.
